


i don’t know if i pity you or not

by seaquestions



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: War for Cybertron Trilogy (Cartoon)
Genre: Confessions, Implied Relationships, Medical checkup, Multi, POV Outsider, Past Relationship(s), mention of past wheelratch & ratchpactor, optimus has a.. Thing. about forgiveness, talking about dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28562166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaquestions/pseuds/seaquestions
Summary: There are relationships you can fix, and there are relationships you cannot.(The Prime was exactly as he’d left him, Ratchet thought. Just as hopelessly idealistic and stubborn as ever.)
Relationships: Elita One/Megatron/Optimus Prime/Ultra Magnus
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: Collextive





	i don’t know if i pity you or not

**Author's Note:**

> takes place in between siege and earthrise, so there arent spoilers but like. i feel like there are Thematic spoilers ig
> 
> also i Swear i dont hate optimus just cause i keep writing characters who have little respect for the man;;

There are relationships you can fix, and there are relationships you cannot. 

Ratchet knew that he and Wheeljack would never be as close as they once were, but they could rebuild their friendship, most likely. Ratchet considered himself a realistic mech. He was not the type to have high expectations of people. He used to, a long time ago, until he realised that it would only ever land you in trouble and heartbreak. He had to let go of his high hopes, cut off ties. When he did, he realised that he could see his path more clearly. 

He knew, when he found himself in love with Impactor, that it was unlikely to last. Impactor had been near-death when they first met, and underneath the ex-con’s heavy plating and bravado, his vitals were worn, damaged, fragile. Ratchet still let himself care dearly for the mech. He’d reached a point of no return where denying his emotions wouldn’t have done him any more good than simply letting things happen. It didn’t mean that he expected it to last forever. And it didn’t.

He had grieved quietly as he ran onto the Ark, as the ship’s doors closed on Impactor’s greying body, as they took off towards the unknown. A small part of his spark had died on Cybertron, he thought, with an ache in his chest that couldn’t be shaken off. He would never forget Impactor.

Still, Ratchet was a field doctor in the middle of a planet-wide civil war. His spark was more dead than living and his processor kept a long list of names that he cycled through every night. Deaths, departures, old friends and old enemies. He _couldn’t_ have expected his relationship with Impactor to last. More importantly, he certainly didn’t expect the mech to miraculously come back, no matter what his dreams showed him. He kept his grief and yearning in the realm of the unconscious, when he was off-shift and needed recharge. It wasn’t realistic otherwise. And Ratchet was a realistic mech.

Now if only Optimus would get the memo.

The Prime was exactly as he’d left him, Ratchet thought. Just as hopelessly idealistic and stubborn as ever. He hadn’t even quit his awful habit of talking to Elita as if he wanted advice, only for her words to fall on willfully deaf audials. To Ratchet, it seemed as if Optimus only ever kept her around to have someone to argue against and win every time, not because he was right but because he was _better_. One might wonder if the Prime was compensating for his losses against a certain Decepticon. There was certainly history between all of them. Ratchet didn’t understand how Elita could have so much patience for a mech who so constantly dismissed her. His voice may be kind and warm and his intentions may be pure, but Ratchet would’ve left a mech like that ages ago. Technically, he did. He was only back because he _had_ to be.

Ratchet supposed that Elita’s perseverance fell back on that shared past yet again. She could be just as stubborn sometimes. All of them were, at the end of the day. Optimus, Elita, Magnus and… Megatron.

“You still haven’t gotten over him, have you,” Ratchet said flatly.

The Prime sat still on the medical berth as Ratchet looked over his vitals. They were in the Ark’s medbay while Arcee took over the Prime’s shift on the bridge, after _much_ convincing. He was well overdue for a checkup and had been dodging Ratchet’s calls for far too long.

“A-ah,” Optimus stuttered, “I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about that…”

Ratchet snorted. “When the hell else do I get to talk to you one-on-one? Just answer me.”

Optimus was quiet for a few kliks. Ratchet wasn’t going to push any further, frankly he didn’t care that much. He just figured that it might do Optimus some good to talk about it, get it off his chest. Maybe it would make him less of an irritating boss and more of a leader.

“It’s… impossible to ‘move on’, or ‘get over it,’ Ratchet,” Optimus said, sighing, “When a mech calls himself your nemesis and fights you every other week, you can’t just pretend that there’s nothing personal behind it all.”

“Eh, fair. I was mostly trying to provoke you into talking, anyway. Your plating’s very tense, ” Ratchet said, while writing on his datapad, “And you seemed like you got a lot on your mind.”

“It’s only natural, old friend. The weight on my shoulders is as heavy as… an entire planet, I suppose,” Optimus said, optics downcast, “As the Prime, I must carry that burden, no matter how tiresome it gets.”

Ratchet nearly tuned him out. He wondered if Optimus ever got tired of talking in heroic speeches or if that was just genuinely how the mech spoke. In all his years of knowing the Prime, he honestly couldn’t tell. He supposed that the only people who would know were the people who knew him as Orion.

In the silence filled only by the electric hum of their frames and medical machinery, Optimus murmured, “I wonder if throwing the Allspark was a mistake.”

Ratchet blinked, put his datapad down and looked up at the Prime. “Oh?” This was new.

“I just couldn’t… I couldn’t let him have it,” the Prime continued, still in a low voice, “I did what I had to do and I still stand by my decision. I think. In hindsight, it wasn’t very smart of me, was it, Ratchet? It was the only thing I could think of in the moment but, it might not have been the best solution, truth be told. I doomed us. And I—“ Optimus cut himself off.

Ratchet transformed his hand to scan Optimus’ frame, as part of the routine checkup. It was mildly strange to realize that, despite Ratchet leaving the Autobots, Optimus trusted Ratchet enough, either as a friend or as a reasonable mech, to admit to his faults, even a little bit. 

“And?” Ratchet inquired gently.

Underneath the mask, it sounded like Optimus was grinding his teeth.

“And…” Optimus whispered, “I’ve been dreaming about apologizing to him.” 

Ratchet froze. He dropped the scan and looked up into Optimus’ eyes. “To Megatron?” he asked.

“Yes,” Optimus replied, pained, “And Ultra Magnus, and Elita One. They all deserve it. They all deserve an apology from me.”

Ratchet made a small grimace as he thought about the Prime’s wording, “When you say dreaming—“

The words spilled out of Optimus’ mouth, “I dreamt that they’d forgive me, Ratchet. I’d kneel at their feet and apologise for all I’ve done this past millennia and they’d forgive me,” he shut his eyes tight, forcefully, “for all the bad decisions I’ve made that lead to countless deaths—like Magnus,” his voice shook, “and then the Matrix would make itself scarce and my spark would be whole again even though I know I’ve done nothing to deserve it—“

Ratchet found himself utterly befuddled. He clearly underestimated just how much repressed guilt Optimus had, and the confession made him feel dizzy. He wasn’t equipped for this. The only Autobot psychotherapist had died ages ago and the war produced too many casualties for Ratchet to ever have had time to sit down and read theory.

But he thought, how long has it been since someone asked Optimus how he was doing, what was on his mind? Ratchet must have been the first in a long time, and he didn’t even really care that much. But Ratchet was an old trusted friend, they were in a private setting, and Ratchet _did_ ask. In a way, the outpouring made sense. If only Ratchet could follow it.

Optimus trailed off, seeming to realise just how much he had said. His posture became rigid again, his vents stopping.

“Oh. That wasn’t...” he mumbled.

Ratchet jolted, realising that he should do something, and pulled a chip out of his subspace. “It’s okay, Prime. It’s okay.” He said, softly, as he handed it to Optimus. “Here, you can take this if you wanna recharge with your brain module on quiet tonight.”

Optimus blinked, looking down at what Ratchet gave him.

Ratchet smiled, somewhat awkwardly but sincerely. “I’ve had a lotta patients who just can’t escape their dreams, you know how it is. I made that to help them. You can’t take one _every_ night, but it’s worked on others well enough before. It might help you.”

Instead of accepting it, however, Optimus just shook his head, his eyes wide open like he was scared.

“No. I can’t take this,” he said, “I can’t.”

Ratchet frowned, concerned, “Huh? Why not?”

The Prime stood up briskly. He handed the chip back to Ratchet almost mindlessly and shook his head again. “I won’t, Ratchet. I won’t,” he said, with a forceful, almost angry tone of voice.

The medic felt more confused than ever. Optimus was being so vague, even more than he usually was. “You can’t or you won’t?”

Optimus was nearly halfway out the door. He paused for a moment, turning around and saying, “I don’t dream when I recharge, Ratchet.”

Then he turned around and walked away, leaving Ratchet sitting in the medbay, completely dumbfounded by the conversation they had. It seemed like pulling out the chip was the wrong move. He looked down at it with frustration and a slight twinge of regret. He could have handled that better, he thought. He should have. Ratchet might not hold much respect for the Prime anymore, but he could tell when a mech is troubled. He’d have to try again sometime, and hopefully not mess it all up. What was Optimus implying, with his last statement? If he didn’t dream in recharge then… What exactly did he mean, earlier?

Ratchet rubbed the bridge of his nose and shut his optics. He wasn’t sure if he and Optimus would ever fix their mess of a friendship. But he would try, at least. Optimus seemed like he wanted to reach out to Ratchet, while simultaneously being afraid of the medic, for whatever reason. 

He sighed. He didn’t even finish the checkup.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks 4 reading! :3


End file.
